Thief and Apprentice
by melcon
Summary: Yahiko learns that it's best not to rob a store with a katana when there is a kendo master inside!
1. Chapter 1

_God, I hate to do this_, Yahiko thought to himself. _But I don't see how I'm gonna save my ass if I don't_. Petty crime was one thing; holding a weapon to a cashier and demanding money was quite another thing. Several things to be precise, and a felony was probably one of them. But what was he to do about the two grand he owed the big boss? At a scrawny 12 years old, Yahiko didn't stand a chance of raising that amount of dough, not in the next few days. Since he relished the thought of all of his four limbs and twenty digits staying intact, desperation had drawn him to this: marching into a tiny corner store late at night brandishing a katana and hoping against hope that this crazy stick-up plan was going to work.

_It better_, Yahiko thought to himself. _Or I'm gonna look like a complete idiot and then get killed by Usashi's gang. _Other people in Yahiko's condition might have committed a stupid crime with the express intention of getting arrested and placed in the relative safety of a police cell, but Yahiko wasn't a fool: last time he did a stint in juvie hall, Usashi's goons had found him and twisted arms to get him set free so they could twist _his_ arm. A lot. Which was why he was about to march into a store with a Japanese katana in hopes that the lady behind the counter could get into the register and hand him lots of money. Yahiko really didn't want to hurt anyone, but desperation makes people do desperate things. A sword wasn't his first choice of weapon, but it had been available, and there was no danger of it going off accidentally. If all went well, he would get the money and no one would get hurt. If all didn't go well...well, he decided not to think too much about it. _Focus on the goal_, he told himself.

At the entrance of the door, Yahiko took a big breath, thought to himself _Here it goes,_ and charged forward.

Karou tiredly dropped a can of soup into her shopping basket after wincing at the price. She hated shopping at this overpriced convenience store, but it was too late to make a trip to the grocery store, and there was absolutely nothing edible in the kitchen at home. She and Kenshin had been too busy lately to keep up with the apartment much – Karou with her dojo and college classes and Kenshin with whatever he and Sano got up to at the police quarters. "Whatever" usually involved Kenshin dragging home in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted and often bloody. Karou tried not to ask many questions, and her husband was not very good at answering the ones she did ask. It was best if she just tried not to think too much about what her husband of six months did in his endless fight to right wrong and be all dashing and derring-do. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place, but that same admirable trait left her in constant fear of being a widow.

Shaking her head, Karou moved on to the next shelf, looking for enough basic goods to get them through the next week. As she swung around, she brushed against a jar of marmalade with the end of her weapons bag, which was slung across her shoulder. As always, Karou had taken her sole means of transportation, an elderly scooter that reached about 45 mph tops, to teach her evening martial arts classes. Not wishing to leave her weapons bag outside on her scooter on the off chance that someone would steal it, Karou had kept it slung across her shoulder as she shopped. The bag had been intended for someone of taller proportions than Karou, and she had never quite gotten the hang of keeping both ends of the bag out of other people's way, or, in this case, lone jars of marmalade's way. The jar wobbled, then fell off the shelf. Karou caught it just before it hit the ground. Looking at it, she thought, _Hmm, I wonder if Kenshin likes marmalade. I've been married to him six months and I don't know. _On a whim, she tossed it into her basket.

Bread, milk, and eggs were sitting in the basket along with the soup and the experimental marmalade. Karou was debating between two brands of toothpaste when her instincts told her that something was not quite right. Pausing, she felt herself collect inwardly, _chi_ reaching out to sense what was in the air surrounding her.

"Alright, this is a holdup!" a voice yelled. It was followed by a slight scream. "Don't move!" the voice ordered. Another voice screamed, and there was a general flutter of movement from the few shoppers in the store.

In one fluid motion, Karou set the basket down on the ground and reached for the weapons bag. Pulling a bokken loose, she crawled low along the floor until she reached the end of the aisle and could look up at the safety mirror angled in a corner of the room. It offered her a picture of what was happening in front of the register. Glancing at the reflection in the mirror, Karou froze. _What the heck? _she thought, then stifled a slight laugh.

"Fill up the bag!" Yahiko ordered, trying to make his voice as deep and masculine as possible. The cashier behind the counter was a rather wobbly-looking older woman, clearly terrified of the sharp sword aimed at her. She was fumbling at the register, scooping up bills that fluttered and flapped in her veined, trembling hands.

A pimply kid not much older than Yahiko tried to discreetly flip open his cellphone as if to call for the police. "Don't touch your phone!" Yahiko ordered, "Or the old lady gets it!" The kid froze, then dropped his phone back into his pocket while the cashier continued to stuff the bag full of money. When it was reasonably full, Yahiko snarled, "That's enough!" acutely aware that every second counted. Grabbing the bag, he pushed it into his backpack with one hand, the other wrapped around the katana handle. _Got it! Now I just gotta get out of here before the police arrive, _he thought triumpantly.

"Just _what_ do you think you are _doing_, kid?" a bossy female voice cut through the tense air, startling Yahiko. He swung around violently, both hands gripping the sword. In front of him was a young Asian woman with long black hair pulled into a ponytail and a wooden sword pointed right at him.

"Get out of my way!" Yahiko snarled, praying that bravado would substitute for strategy. Whoever the woman was, she looked at lot more confident with her wooden sword than he felt with his sharp metal one. The way that she was pointing the wooden sword at him loudly said that she could do all sorts of things with it. She was also standing between Yahiko and the quickest way out of the building.

The woman snorted in wry amusement, looking over him with a practiced eye. "You really don't have a clue how to handle that thing, do you?" she stated more than questioned.

Yahiko felt his gut tighten. Brazenly, he raged on. "Don't mess with me lady unless you want to be sliced to ribbons!"

She snorted again, "Kid, I teach kendo. That's Japanese sword. Don't screw with me. Your grip is backwards, your stance is crap, and you're completely wide open. You've never held a sword in your life."

Yahiko blushed hotly. Fear raged along with anger and desperation. He had the money, all he had to do was get it to Usashi and pay him off, and now this bossy, ugly woman was in his way, waving around some stupid wooden toothpick like it was any good against a real, sharp katana. Fury and panic crowded out his judgement. He didn't want to hurt this woman, but he really, really didn't want to face Usashi empty-handed. Hoping desperately that some beginner's luck would magically appear, Yahiko charged forward and attacked, slashing the sword at the woman's face.

The woman moved, a swift blur of speed, and all the sudden Yahiko felt the ribs on his right side explode with pain. Screaming, he collapsed on the floor, rolling about in agony. _Dammit, broken again!_ he thought to himself frantically. He was no stranger to broken ribs; Usashi's goons had seen to that once.

Shaking her head, the woman stood over him and said, "I hate to do that to you, kid, but I can't have you running off with the money you stole and you needed to learn a lesson about not taking what isn't yours." She bent forward, and Yahiko found the katana handle swiftly removed from his clenched fist. Casually, she pointed the tip of the wooden sword at his injured side. "If I were you, I would stay down there. You've still got more ribs for me to break if I absolutely have to."

Around them, the store buzzed with frenetic activity. Two other patrons in the store were comforting the cashier, who had dissolved into a hysterical fit of crying. Off in the distance, Yahiko could hear the faint sounds of a police siren. The pimply youth was on his cellphone, jabbering excitedly to a friend: Yahiko caught part of the conversation. "...Man, it was _awesome_! This chick _totally_ kicked the kid's ass. I got it on video..."

_Great,_ Yahiko thought to himself. _I'm gonna get arrested, Usashi's goons will fry my ass, and I'll end up as part of a viral video on Youtube. _But he was far too angry, scared, and hurt to do much more thinking: the dense knot of fear and agony clogging up his brain blocked out most thought processes.

Blue uniforms filled the store. A rush of people in and out the door, blips and clicks of police communication back and forth. After a few minutes, the paramedics arrived to cart Yakiho and his broken rib off to the hospital. While he was being wheeled out, Yahiko shot one final glance of defiance at the crazy woman who had beaten him. To his surprise, she was gazing at him with a measuring look on her face. It was the last sight to pass his eyes before the doors of the ambulance slammed shut.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wake up, kid," a guttural voice broke through Yahiko's troubled dreams. Fighting valiantly through sleep and the haze of painkillers, Yahiko struggled for consciousness. Something large and hard was prodding at his shoulder painfully, stabbing him awake.

He opened his eyes and immediately wanted to close them again. The large, scarred face of Ubeka, Usashi's top thug, was grinning at him, his lips stretched over a row of tobacco-stained teeth. By the darkness outside his window and the muted lights in the hallway, Yahiko knew it was late at night. _How did Ubeka get in?_ he wondered.

"What do you want?" Yahiko muttered. Next to him, the heart rate monitor attached to his finger picked up the pace. 

"Oh no, not what I want, kid, what Mister Usashi wants," Ubeka said in a mock-friendly voice. "You had your chance, kid. Time's up. Mister Usashi won't be very friendly when I cart your ass back to him."

"Get out of here or I'll call the nurse," Yahiko mumbled. He knew there was a call button somewhere on the bed if he could just reach it.

"You do that," Ubeka said agreeably. "Don't worry, we'll get to you soon enough. You're only here because no one can get ahold of your family." His grin turned sadistic. "Parents must not be picking up the phone."

"Shut up!" Yahiko ordered, then immediately regretted it as his broken rib protested the expansion of his lungs. Just like Ubeka to not pass up a opportunity to remind Yahiko he was an orphan.

Ubeka patted Yahiko on the head in an irritatingly condescending manner, then turned to leave. "Rest up, kid, I'll be back later," before disappearing into the hallway and leaving Yahiko to seethe and fret alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning dawned upon an irritable and fearful Yahiko who had slept badly after Ubeka's late night visit. His worry had only been intensified by the discovery that a police officer had been posted outside his door the previous evening, no doubt to make sure that Yahiko wouldn't make a break for it. But what was deeply troubling Yahiko was that Ubeka had managed to slip into his room despite the nurses swarming around the place and the police officer outside. Yahiko wasn't a fool: he knew that plenty of New York City's finest were deep in the pockets of Usashi. The uniform outside his door was likely one Usashi had gotten placed there, one who would look the other way when Ubeka came to collect Yahiko.

No matter how he fretted and sweated, Yahiko couldn't see any way out of the inevitability staring him in the face. The crowded, state-run hospital was filled with tramps, accident victims, and crazed loonies wandering the halls shouting nonsense: the overworked nurses and doctors didn't had any sympathy to spare on a beat-up street kid caught robbing a store. They would be happy to deposit him in the hands of anyone who claimed ownership of him, and Ubeka would provide it.

Wincing, Yahiko tried to will his body into cooperation, thinking desperately that if he could just make it past the police officer, it would be a relatively easy matter to slip through the chaos of the hospital and find a place where he could hide from Usashi's thugs. Eventually they would find him, he knew that for certain, but if he could just get some place where he could rest and heal up, he'd think of a way to deal with Usashi. Eventually. But first was to get free.

However, just trying to sit up violently reminded Yahiko that a broken rib is an excellent hindrance to movement. With a muttered curse, he lay back down, gritting his teeth and trying to swallow the gag of nausea and helpless frustration rising in his throat. Injured, alone, and caught like a rat in a trap. _Good job, Myojin_, he told himself sarcastically. Despite himself, tears of frustration beaded up in his eyes.

"You're Yahiko?" a female voice cut thought Yahiko's gloom.

He swung his head around, then his lips pulled back in a snarl. "What the hell are you doing here?" he spat venomously at the too-familiar woman looking at him with frank eyes. _The crazy chick from the store! Why is SHE here?_ he thought frantically. At her side was a man, short and rather slender, with a shock of vivid red hair pulled back into a thick ponytail. Yahiko shot a quick glance at the man, then stopped. Short and slender though he was, the man had an aura of calmness and strength about him that Yahiko had never sensed coming from another person before. His eyes were an odd violet color, and they were gazing at Yahiko with sympathy and kindness.

The woman moved forward towards Yahiko's bedside. He swung his attention from the man to her and gave her an ugly look. She ignored it and smiled warmly, "Yahiko, I'm Karou. This is my husband Kenshin."

"Whaddywant?" Yahiko grunted sullenly. Her response surprised him greatly.

"To see if you actually want to learn how to use that katana you brought into the store. You up for learning how _not_ to get your ribs broken next time you decide to face a kendo master?" Karou responded easily, a wry smile playing across her lips.

"What?" Yahiko responded incredulously.

"My wife is master of Kamiya Kasshim dojo, Yahiko," Kenshin replied quietly. "She believes that you would be an excellent addition to her student roster, and I must say," he smiled gently, "I agree with her. Your _chi_ is strong, young one. With training, you could be quite a warrior."

"What makes you think I wanna take some stupid sword lessons from you?" Yahiko grunted belligerently.

"Because I get plenty of oddball students like you," Karou responded. "Ex-gang members, street kids, abuse victims. Kendo's a good way of finding a new life, a fresh start." Her eyes flickered over him compassionately. "And I think you could use a new start."

Yahiko said nothing. Confusion and fear was roiling within him, and the tiny flicker of hope that suddenly crept up in his belly was in mortal danger of being crushed by reality. Karou was being kind, but she had no idea what situation Yahiko was currently enmeshed in – this crazy, sword-wielding woman and her husband couldn't offer Yahiko the fresh start he needed.

Or could they? Looking at the calm young man at Karou's side, Yahiko was struck with a sense that he was capable of just about anything. There was just _something_ about him that spoke of effortless power and strength carefully hidden under a veil of tranquility. Maybe, just maybe, this odd couple could offer a way out of this mess Yahiko's life had become.

"Besides," Karou continued, "If you're going to wave a katana in front of me and do it _that_ badly, you'd better believe that I am not going to let you get away with it, buckko. You've got a lot of work to do before you can swing a sword properly, but you'll get there."

Yahiko was quiet for a moment, then muttered, "I don't have any money for lessons," feeling shame well up in him. The two were being so kind to him, and for what reason? Yahiko had, after all, tried to hurt Karou. He wasn't expecting her to be so nice about it.

Kenshin cleared his throat and said tactfully, "My wife's dojo has expanded to the point that she has need of an apprentice. This position demands a great deal of work, so naturally fees will not be expected." He quirked a brow at Yahiko, then continued, "Traditionally, Japanese apprentices live with their masters, the master being responsible for providing all necessities for his pupil. I trust such an arrangement would suit you."

Yahiko easily read what Kenshin was not saying: _We know that you're on your own, in trouble, and have no one to take care of you. Stick with us, and we'll watch out for you. _He was quite frankly stunned that these two complete strangers would offer to take a beat-up orphan off the streets and into their home, especially after he had tried to poke one of them with a sword. Tears suddenly rushed to his eyes. Rubbing them back angrily, Yahiko searched for the right words and unbidden, _No, thanks_ was the first thing to pop into mind. Despite their generous offer, he knew that accepting it would place Kenshin and Karou in grave danger from Usashi and his gang of loyal muscleheads. It wouldn't be fair to repay their generosity by running them afoul of Usashi. But before he could form a semi-graceful refusal, a gigantic form suddenly filled the doorway.

"Hey, Yahiko!" the thick voice of Ubeka lumbered into the room. _Oh shit_, Yahiko thought frantically. Ubeka was leaning casually against the door frame. When his eyes fell on Kenshin and Karou, he gave a barely imperceptible startle, then a smile hastily appeared on his face. Yahiko knew that Ubeka could be relatively charming when the situation called for it and didn't always rely on brute strength to get his way. No doubt Ubeka had summed the situation up in a heartbeat and decided that tactful diplomacy and outright lying was the best way to proceed. But Yahiko had no doubt that Ubeka would quickly resort to brute force should charisma fail to work.

At the sudden appearance of Ubeka, Karou and Kenshin rose simultaneously and stood in front of Yahiko's bed. In a heartbeat, Kenshin was transformed from sympathetic listener to warrior; a gleam of amber flashed in his eyes, and his entire form took on a watchful, alert pose. The air in the room crackled as if with electricity, and time seemed to slow down.

Kenshin gave a slight bow to Ubeka and said in measured tones. "Let me introduce myself. I am Kenshin Himura and this is my wife Karou." His rapidly-ambering eyes swept the thug as he said slowly, "And you are..."

"Saitu Myojin," Ubeka answered easily. "Yahiko's uncle and guardian. Look," Ubeka's voice dropped and he beckoned Karou and Kenshin closer. Continuing in a lower tone, he said in a voice that still reached Yahiko's ears, "The kid lost his parents last year, and I took over guardianship of him. But his parents' death has been tough on him, and he's been acting up a lot lately. He ran away a couple days ago, and I just got word from the police an hour ago about where he was. I'm gonna take him home."

Yahiko could see that every muscle in Kenshin's back was one second from leaping into action, yet his entire form seemed relaxed and in control. Calmly, Kenshin stated, "And you have documentation proving your guardianship of Yahiko?"

"Documentation?" Ubeka tried to smile, but there was a thin veneer of warning edging his voice. "Come now, Mr. Himura, you don't need to worry yourself over this issue. I'm taking Yahiko home and off your hands, you don't need to worry about it at all."

Kenshin's eyes moved from Ubeka to Yahiko, and the boy saw the gleam of amber flashing in his eyes. "Yahiko?" he questioned. Gulping, Yahiko frantically weighed his options. Ubeka's crooked smile held a thousand nasty promises in it should Yahiko utter one word that countered Ubeka's story. Yahiko was a thousand percent sure that Ubeka would uphold every single threat and promise he had made, and he was nowhere near confident that Kenshin and Karou would follow through on their offer. Freedom flashed on the horizon, but it was extremely unsure. Intense suffering at the hands of Ubeka, however, was a certainty.

Finding a tiny shred of courage somewhere in the recesses of his gut, Yahiko blurted out, "He's not my uncle!" then felt his insides freeze as Ubeka's face turned deadly with anger.

"I though not," Kenshin responded coolly. Turning back to Ubeka, he said, "In fact, if I am not mistaken, you are Ubeka Naguta, right-hand of Muramata Usashi." His voice was like shards of ice, every syllable razor-sharp.

Karou put a hand on Yahiko's shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry. Kenshin has it under control." Yahiko had no doubt of that; there was something in Kenshin's stance and aura that said he could leave the entire hospital in smoking ruins and come strolling out without a scratch on him if he wanted to. But it wasn't the hospital setting Yahiko was so worried about – eventually he would have to face the real world, and no one could run for long when Usashi wanted to have a word with him. Eventually Ubeka would find him, and Usashi would amuse himself by cooking up an especially painful punishment for him. It was unfair to expect Kenshin to watch Yahiko's back for the rest of his life.

Right now, Kenshin was clearly winning. In measured tones with each word falling like a chunk of granite, Kenshin said to Ubeka, "You will leave now, quietly and without bothering anyone. You will return to Mr. Usashi and tell him that Yahiko is now under my protection. If Mr. Usashi wishes to make any protest about this, he may make them to me. But let me be perfectly clear," Kenshin's cold voice became distinctively chillier, "Anyone attempting to harm or threaten Yahiko in any way will answer to me."

Yahiko had never seen Ubeka back down in the slightest. But in the tiny hospital room, it was clear Ubeka had been beaten. He was fluffed up and growling like a threatened pitt bull, but it was obvious he had his tail firmly between his legs. "Fine," he rumbled. "I'll be back later, Yahiko," he snarled before turning and disappearing into the hallway.

With him gone, the air suddenly became easier to breathe. But Yahiko could not tear his eyes away from Kenshin – the man stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room, and he looked at least ten feet tall. Then, it was as if the fire dissipated, shrinking him back to ordinary proportions. Smiling, Kenshin turned his attention back to Yahiko, and the boy saw that violet was beginning to return to the man's eyes. "Do not be afraid, Yahiko," Kenshin assured him, "Usashi will never harm you again." With that, Kenshin pulled a slim cellphone out of his pocket and disappeared into the hallway to make a call.

The next hour or so was filled with bustle and activity. Nurses swept into the room to unhook Yahiko from various machines and help dress him back in his street clothes. Kenshin's call summoned a plainclothes detective, a tall man with a mop of spiky hair, who immediately began chewing out the police officer assigned to guard Yahiko's door: Yahiko heard enough to guess that the man was going to be in deep trouble for letting Ubeka in twice. Forms appeared and were signed by Karou, a few doctors popped in and out, and soon Yahiko was being gently wheeled through the hallway to an unmarked police car outside.

Inside, sitting next to Karou in the backseat, Yahiko marveled at his first trip in a police car as a passenger and not as a juvenile delinquent. His ribs were hurting him something fierce, the pain medication he was on was messing with his grip on reality, and he was hungry, tired, and disoriented, plus he nurtured deep suspicions that Kenshin and Karou would eventually get sick of him and toss him back on the street. But neither one showed signs of doing so now. Karou solicitously propped him up with pillows while Kenshin and Sano, the detective, talked quietly in the front seat, something about busting open Usashi's ring and getting rid of one more mob boss.

Tired, Yahiko let his head rest on the back of the seat. He wasn't sure what this new life had in store for him, but maybe, just maybe, he would eventually be strong enough to fight for himself and not have to depend upon Kenshin and Karou for protection. Maybe this crazy-ass kendo teacher and her surprisingly impressive husband could show him how to start a new life, one where he could live without begging and stealing. One that he was proud of.

With that, Yahiko drifted off to sleep, hoping that at least Karou wouldn't break anymore of his ribs while she was training him. That, at least, was a start somewhere.


End file.
